


Tread That Fine Line

by disapparater



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Harry, Dildos, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Innuendo, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Humor, Top Draco, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:57:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1662188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disapparater/pseuds/disapparater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry could cope with being in love with Draco, it was the needing to get fucked by him that was driving Harry insane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tread That Fine Line

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dracotops_harry 2014.  
> All I went into this with was a love of the friends-first trope and an idea to use a lot of innuendos. What I came away with was porn. Enjoy!

Harry accepted the fact that he was in love with Draco a long time ago. That didn’t bother him. He could cope with being in love with him and only being his friend. He got to share his time with Draco, he got to see him when he was happy, sad, angry, smarmy, condescending, he got to see him at his best and at his worst. He got to share his life with him. That was enough, as far as loving Draco went; his heart was satisfied.

The problem wasn’t that Harry loved Draco. The problem that was slowly driving Harry crazy was how damn much he wanted to fuck Draco. It was insane, really, the amount Harry thought about it. Sipping tea across from Draco at a café? Harry was thinking about Draco slowly undressing. Waiting in line at the shop? Harry was thinking about Draco naked. Walking through the park on the way to work? Harry was thinking about Draco slowing pulling on his erect cock. Ten minutes to himself at lunch? Harry was thinking about Draco stretching him open with his fingers. Ron and Hermione whispering quietly between themselves for a few minutes over drinks at the pub? Harry was thinking about Draco slowly sinking into him. Lying in bed at night having a wank? Harry was thinking about all of the above, in slow, agonising detail.

Harry could cope with being in love with Draco, it was the needing to get fucked by him that was driving Harry insane.

-

It all started about five years ago, when Harry and Draco both started work on the same floor at the Ministry. They would always see each other, in the corridors, in the lifts and at interdepartmental meetings. They were always cordial and polite; always safe. Then one day at lunch, someone bumped into the back of Harry and he spilt Irn Bru over Draco's legs. The fight they both expected hadn't materialised. Instead, Harry apologised—using big words and full sentences—and Draco accepted the apology before mocking him mildly for his choice of lurid orange drink. They sat down and shared the rest of their lunch break together.

Harry liked to think of that lunch as the moment he fell in love with Draco, but in reality there was no specific moment. It happened slowly, over time, like natural things do, until one day Harry felt as though he might always have been in love with Draco. (The need to have Draco's cock in his arse is a different story; that happened all at once at a very specific moment.)

After that they were actually friendly when they saw each other. They shared drinks and lunches more often. They found they actually liked each other. After everything they'd both been through, they agreed the time to put it behind them and move on was more than overdue. They had spent months avoiding any part of their history that might cause them to argue, but when they realised they argued over where to sit on lunch breaks and which pub to go to after work, they also realised they would always argue; it was who they were and how they worked. After that they spent an entire weekend shit faced drunk and hashing out their past once and for all. They were so drunk that Harry was sure neither of them really remembered it, and each just assumed whatever was said was what they wanted to hear.

Now they may as well be best friends. Harry still had Ron and Hermione and the Weasleys, Draco still had Pansy and Greg and his mother, but they always drifted towards each other. Lately they had even half-joked about sharing a house together, but really Harry was petrified of Draco hearing him scream his name when he masturbated.

~

Harry knew Draco was gay. Their sexual orientation was one of the reasons they became so close. None of their other friends were gay and they both appreciated having someone who understood and to talk to freely about fancying men. They had never strayed into anything other than friendship though, even back then (and how Harry regretted that now). On a few—very few—occasions they had gone out to a gay club together. It had been somewhat fun, but it was not their scene; they both admitted they were not the shag-'em-and-leave-'em type. (Looking back, Harry wondered if _that_ was the moment he started falling in love with Draco.)

In the time Harry had been friends with Draco, Draco hadn't dated anyone. At least no one he had mentioned to Harry, and Harry was pretty sure Draco would have mentioned that sort of thing. He would want Harry's opinion on a bloke, he was sure of it. Harry knew he would want Draco's opinion on any guy he dated (except that opinion would be egotistical, because the only person Harry wanted in any capacity was Draco).

So, there they were. Two gay friends, not dating each other, but not dating anyone else. Harry was in love with Draco, but more than wanting Draco's love in return he desperately wanted Draco in his bed.

And did Harry mention he wa a virgin? No? He hadn't told Draco, but he was determined Draco would be his first. Maybe Draco's cock up his arse would knock some sense into him and his love-struck feelings out of him, but Harry wasn't holding his breath. Unless Draco was into asphyxiaphilia, then Harry would certainly give it a go.

~

“Are you coming, Harry?”

It was an innocent enough question, but the way Draco said it drove Harry crazy. He wanted to reply with, 'No, but I'd like to be, will you help me by shoving your dick inside me and yanking at my cock?'

“Yes, be right there,” was what Harry actually said.

Harry knew Draco didn't make innuendos in order to wind Harry up, in fact Harry knew Draco didn't mean to make innuendos at all. It was all Harry. He _wanted_ what Draco said to have a double meaning. In effect, Harry was driving himself crazy.

“You're going to make me poke you, aren't you?” Draco's voice was much closer this time.

“ _What?_ ” Harry whipped around to see Draco standing beside him. He'd thought, 'Yes, poke me with your cock,' and had somehow managed to keep it inside his brain.

“You're so jumpy. I've got everything I need, are you coming back with me now or coming over later?”

It was Saturday. Harry and Draco usually spent the day together; shopping, drinking, watching films or whatever they felt like doing (shagging, if Harry could have his way). Then one of them would cook and they'd spend the evening in. Sometimes they would invite other friends over, but that seemed to be the exception rather than the rule. (Harry liked the rule.)

This evening it was Draco's turn to cook and he had dragged Harry around every butchers in the vicinity trying to find the perfect sausages. And wasn't _that_ an experience. “What do you think of this sausage, Harry? It's apparently very tasty.” “Harry, check out the length of _this_ sausage!” “Woah, Harry, do you think there's too much girth on that sausage to fit in your mouth?” It had seemed never ending and Harry was ready for a wank about two hours ago.

“I'll come 'round to yours in an hour or so, if that's okay?”

“Okay,” said Draco. “I won't start cooking without you, though. My toad in the hole is so much fun!”

'I'll bet it is', is what Harry didn't say. “See you in a little while.”

Before Draco could reply Harry had Apparated away—straight into his bedroom. Within seconds he had shed himself of his clothes and was laying back on his bed with one hand on his cock and the other rifling through his bedside table for the lube and dildo he kept there.

Once his dildo—The Blond Bombshell (what? It _was_ a light yellow colour!)—was deep in his arse and his hand was moving swiftly over his cock, Harry was coming more quickly than he'd ever care to admit. His fantasy hadn't even got further than Harry proving Draco wrong about the girth of his sausage.

Harry cleaned himself up in the shower and, considering he had the time, decided to indulge in a leisurely wank while he was there. The dildo was difficult to use in the shower, but his hand would do. This second round he really took his time, coaxing himself back to hardness and teasing the puckered skin at his hole. By the time he was practically fisting himself and coming all over the bathroom tiles while screaming Draco's name, he vaguely worried that he might be running late.

Two wanks in his pocket, he made it to Draco's flat with 10 minutes to spare. He let himself in; they were the friends they gave each other's keys and wards to in case of emergency. This fact made Harry's heart sigh in contentment, but made his libido roll its eyes and want to get fucked already.

Harry had made the decision at some point between his third and fourth finger entering his arse in the shower. He couldn't go on like this any more. He had to tell Draco he wanted him. Wanted him, sexually. Harry knew he'd be risking the contentedness his heart was experiencing, being happily in love with Draco, by revealing to Draco how much he wanted them to fuck. But as much as his heart was content, his dick was more discontent everyday he saw Draco and couldn't sit on his cock.

“Draco?” Harry called once he'd shut the door behind him. He didn't like to intrude, what if Draco was having a wank of his own? (And calling out Harry's name, or worse, someone else's.)

“Harry, good, come grab my meat for me,” called Draco from the direction of the kitchen.

Harry gave himself a second to picture himself grabbing Draco's 'meat' before heading towards his voice.

“You called?” said Harry upon entering the kitchen.

Draco was lazily stirring a bowl of what Harry could only assume was the Yorkshire pudding batter. He smiled at Harry as he made his way inside.

“I need you.”

That wasn't even an innuendo, but it instantly had Harry hot under the collar.

“You've got me.” Harry wondered if Draco had any clue how true that statement was.

Draco's smile got a fraction bigger before he pointed to the counter by the oven.

“My meat. Will you grab the pan out of the oven and stick it in? They need cooking through.”

Not thinking about what he would _really_ like sticking where, Harry did as he was asked, nervously handling Draco's sausages into a hot pot and sliding them back into the oven.

“Thanks for coming to help. My toad is the hole is the best, but I can never manage it on my own.”

Harry, unable to agree more, simply nodded.

By the time they had finished cooking, Draco had some how exhausted all the sausage and hole related innuendos. Harry couldn't decide if he was pleased or disappointed. He got over it as soon as they sat down to eat, though.

“Shit, I forgot the cutlery. Give me a second and I'll fork you,” said Draco before he disappeared into the kitchen.

'I wish you would!' cried Harry's mind. Harry remained silent and was simply grateful for the two wanks he'd had earlier. The twitch his cock gave in response to Draco's words would have been so much worse without them.

When they finally sat down and ate, they passed the time erection-free, chatting about work and their friends and how good the Yorkshire pudding was. Harry had consciously decided to put some distance between the innuendos of the kitchen and his declaration of lust, so purposely did not try to broach the subject over dinner.

It was later, when they were sitting in Draco's living room, next to each other on the sofa, drinking wine and laughing about some inane work anecdote that Harry thought he should say something. He didn't exactly have it planned out, but Harry figured he could wing it. If he opened his mouth and 'I want you to fuck me through the mattress' comes out, then so be it. At least it would be honest.

Harry opened his mouth, ready to say _something_ , but he hesitated a fraction too long and Draco jumped in before him.

“I'm sorry, I completely forgot about pudding! Let me go and get them.”

Then Draco was dashing off to the kitchen and Harry's mouth clamped shut. He wasn't sure when he'd pluck up the courage to open it again.

Not long, as it turned out. Harry's mouth fell open when, a few minutes later, Draco reappeared and stood in front of Harry, offering him a banana split positioned at his crotch.

“Fancy a nibble on my banana? It has whipped cream and everything.”

This time Harry couldn't stop his instinctual response of, “Yes please!” as he reached up and took the pudding from Draco. Thankfully, Draco thought he was talking about the actual banana.

“I knew you liked banana splits, but I didn't think you were quite that enthused about them.”

“I just really fancied it, is all.” Replace 'it' with 'you' and Harry hadn't been lying.

They ate their desserts in silence. Well, they didn't talk—the obscene (and highly erotic) noises Draco made as he slurped on his ice cream did not make it silent.

Once they were finished Harry took their bowls back to the kitchen. He took the opportunity to calm himself down and think about things rationally. It was nothing to do with needing a moment away from Draco to will his erection away—that was just a happy coincidence.

After he put all the dirty dishes in a sink of hot water to soak, Harry leaned back against the counter and closed his eyes. He couldn't even eat a meal (granted, a highly phallic meal) with Draco without wanting to dramatically clear the table, lay himself down on it and cry out, 'Take me, Draco, take me now!' The worst thing was that he wasn't even embarrassed about doing that; he'd do it in a heartbeat if he truly thought Draco would be receptive to the idea. Instead, Draco would probably scold Harry for breaking his plates.

Regardless, Harry had to say something. He didn't need to make a grand gesture, or even beg or demand Draco to fuck him. Harry just had to tell Draco he wanted him to fuck him. Perhaps just admitting it to Draco would stop it dominating Harry's waking (and sleeping) thoughts.

How Harry admitted this was important, because it would determine Draco's reaction. If he came across too seriously, Draco would draw back, get defensive and probably make a joke. If he came across too lightly, Draco would think he was making a joke and respond with laughter, which Harry didn't think he could take.

Harry considered some options. 'Draco, I'd quite like your cock up my arse.' 'Draco, would you ever consider fucking me? Because I consider it pretty much constantly.' 'Draco, my arsehole fancies your dick.' 'Draco, I get hard every time I look at you... or think about you, or hear your name, or see something the colour of your hair...' Harry decided this was going to go badly.

Embracing the dread that was pooling at the pit of his stomach, Harry marched out of the kitchen ready to just spit it out (except, given the opportunity, Harry would _never_ spit).

When he reached the living room, hands on hips and words on lips, he stopped. Draco was sitting low on the sofa, with his long legs stretched out in front of him, luridly eating a freshly peeled banana. Harry determinedly did not come in his pants immediately.

Harry's hands slipped from his hips and he couldn't help the strangled, “Draco,” that fell from his lips. He wondered if that had done what he'd set out from the kitchen to do.

“You want it.” And it was all there in how Draco said it. 

“Yes,” said Harry, finally free to say it out loud. “I want it.”

Draco gave him a small smile before saying, “So come and take it.”

Harry needed no further invitation. He was straddling Draco's lap and slapping the stupid banana aside in less than three seconds. (Coincidentally also the amount of time it would take Harry to come once their clothes were removed, he was sure.)

Now allowed to kiss and lick and touch, Harry found himself only doing that for half the time. As he kissed his way across Draco's jaw and licked his way down Draco's neck and felt his way though Draco's hair, Harry couldn't stop urgent words spilling from his mouth. They'd spent so long in his head, they needed to be heard.

“I want it, I want you. I want you to be my first. I've wanted you for so long, wanted you naked, in my bed, in my shower, in my office. Merlin, the times I've got hard at work thinking about you bending me over my desk, spreading me open and fucking me. I want your cock inside my arse so long and so rough and so _repeatedly_ that I can't walk or sit down tomorrow. I want you...”

It was when Harry reached his hands under Draco's shirt that he stopped. Stopped talking, stopped kissing, stopped touching. Because he suddenly realised Draco had never started. He was sitting there beneath Harry, his chest rising and falling perhaps slightly more rapidly than normal, but otherwise unmoving.

“Draco?”

“Harry...”

Harry didn't like the sound of that. Slowly, Harry sat back and lifted his eyes to Draco's face. It was stoic. Harry's heart, so joyous and high only a few seconds ago suddenly plummeted and burned up in his stomach acid (and when had his heart got involved, anyway? This was about _lust_ ).

“Fuck,” was all Harry could manage before clambering off of Draco and as far into the other end of the sofa as possible. “You didn't mean—”

“I thought you wanted the banana; it was the last one.” Draco spoke softly, not angrily, but certainly not warmly.

“Shit.” And then it all hit Harry clearly. He hadn't meant Harry wanted Draco; he hadn't been offering himself to Harry. And Harry had just leap on him and couldn't keep his mouth shut and Draco didn't even— “You didn't know.” Harry voiced the most humiliating fact. “You didn't know that I—” Actions were one thing, they could be laughed off as a joke gone too far, but words were harder to take back.

“Of course I knew.”

“What?” Harry sat up straight, suddenly at full attention. “You knew what?”

“That you wanted to shag me.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, but was unable to get any words out. He thought he'd been so _careful_ ; he'd never wanked anywhere within screaming range of Draco.

Draco looked at Harry and rolled his eyes. “You're hardly subtle.” There was a moment of awkward silence while Draco brushed down his shirt and flattened his hair. “Of course compared to just now you've been unbelievably subtle.”

When Harry only continued with his fish impression, Draco explained a little further.

“You look at me. Even when my back is turned. I can _feel_ it, Harry.” He sighed. “You make excuses to touch me, though I don't even think you realise you're doing it. And I'm pretty sure you get erections around me so often that you have to make excuse to go elsewhere and wank.”

Draco got quieter the longer he spoke. Harry got the impression that Draco had _never_ wanted to talk about this.

“I'm sorry,” said Harry, just as quietly.

As Harry watched, Draco closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I'm not upset that you want me in your bed, Harry, but you know me. We've talked about this. I'm not the one night stand type. I can't shag someone I don't share romantic feelings with.” Draco opened his eyes and looked at Harry sadly, before turning away. “I thought you couldn't, either.”

This time Harry took a deep breath and shut his mouth without it dropping open again. Draco didn't want to sleep with Harry because he didn't like Harry romantically. That hurt more than Harry was ready to admit right then. It hurt more than the physical rejection, that's for sure, which shocked Harry. He thought he was content loving Draco and not having those feelings returned, but the empty hole that used to be his innards argued otherwise.

In his apparent need for self-deprecation, Harry went over Draco's words again. 'I can't shag someone I don't share romantic feelings with.' They tore Harry up, to think—wait. Draco _hadn't_ said he wasn't interested in Harry romantically, just that he couldn't sleep with someone he doesn't _share_ romantic feelings with. If he thought Harry didn't love him—which _wasn't true_. 'I thought you couldn't either', he'd said. Draco thought Harry wanted to sleep with him but didn't love him.

Harry took another deep breath and opened his mouth again.

“So, you don't want to sleep with me because I don't love you?”

Draco's face crumpled as he nodded, and he looked to be in so much pain. Hopefully Harry would fix that with his next words.

“Draco, I've been in love with you for five years! I've only wanted to shag you so desperately since last year when I saw you getting out of the shower.”

Instantly Draco's face uncrumpled. “What?”

“You remember. Last year. I'd come to meet you before we headed to the pub for the annual work night out, but I arrived early. I let myself in and I couldn't find you; I was worried. I don't know why I didn't hear the shower running, really, but I was dashing around practically frantic looking for you and then I barged right into the bathroom and there you were in all your naked, glistening glory and—”

“Shut up,” Draco interrupted, “and tell me more about the part where _you love me?_ ”

Harry shrugged. “Well, yeah. You make me happy, I spend all my spare time with you, you know me better than anyone. You let me eat the olives out of your salads and I always save you the last bite of my chocolate frogs. We talk about _everything_ , regardless of how personal or disgusting—you probably know my bowel habits just as well as I do. I think about you before I sleep at night and you're what I'm still thinking about when I wake up. You make the perfect cup of tea, and I only find it endearing when you talk down the man at the wine shop because you know more than he does. I—I just love you.”

When Draco didn't respond straight away Harry got nervous and fidgety. Out of loving him and wanting to shag him, he thought Draco would get more upset about the latter, but maybe Harry was wrong. Then he looked up at Draco and knew he wasn't.

Draco was smiling, but not just smiling. Harry could see dozens of other emotions in that smile. Relief, smugness, a dash of uncertainty, determination... but mostly happiness. Harry only got to see those emotions for a few seconds, though, because then Draco was so close that Harry had to close his eyes and then they were kissing.

“I'll fuck you now,” said Draco between kisses.

“I don't know,” Harry replied only half-jokingly. “I can't sleep with someone who has no romantic interest in me...”

Draco pulled back just far enough for Harry to see him roll his eyes. “I've loved you since the moment you saw me getting out of the shower a year ago, now get your trousers off.”

Then for a while there was no talking as they used their mouth for other things, like sucking on bottom lips and ear lobes, kissing necks, nibbling nipples and cursing clothes as they stripped.

After using his mouth to map the way down to Harry's naked crotch, Draco stopped. He was laying between Harry's spread legs with his hands on the creases between Harry's legs and arse. Draco was rubbing gently and it already felt better than any wank. Draco looked from between Harry's legs up to Harry's face.

“You've really never done this before?” Draco asked.

Harry shook his head.

“And you're sure you want to do it now? With me?”

“Draco, I've been waiting a year to do this, and I _only_ want to do it with you.”

That was apparently all Draco needed to hear, because the next thing Harry heard was a moan coming from his own throat as Draco's head lowered and a gentle, moist massaging began at Harry's arsehole. It seemed to go on forever, gradually getting less gentle, more urgent and less moist, more wet. At some point the massaging became a definite licking motion, then progressed to a pushing at Harry's hole. Harry had never experienced this sensation with his fingers or any kind of dildo, no matter how much lube he used. Before long he was a quivering mess of limbs he could barely feel or control, all his senses narrowed to his arsehole, and Draco's tongue.

Harry was acutely aware of when the thing prodding his hole became more than Draco's tongue. Not only was it slightly cold with fresh lube, it was stiffer, slimmer and quickly reached further. Harry's hips bucked when Draco's finger grazed his prostate. Although he felt Draco hum against him in satisfaction, Draco brought his other hand up to rest on Harry's hip, to keep him on the sofa.

As Draco worked first one, then two fingers in and out of Harry, Harry's breathing became heavy and his moans got slowly louder, needier.

“Please.” Harry pressed down on Draco's fingers, but when he tried to lift his hips, Draco's hand help firm. “ _Please_.”

“For a virgin, you sound pretty desperate to get my cock inside you.”

“Too many dildos, not enough of your cock.”

“You use dildos?” As he spoke, Draco deliberately pressed against Harry's prostate.

“ _Fuck_ , yes, all the time. I imagine they're your cock, but your cock's going to be so much better.”

For an instant, Draco's fingers stilled inside of Harry, before being removed altogether. Harry felt deflated and lost until he opened his eyes and saw Draco kneeling over him.

“I'll show you how much better my cock feels.”

And then Harry felt the head of Draco's dick pushing slowly but resolutely at his hole.

“Yes.” Harry pushes his hips forward as much as he could, more than ready to feel Draco's cock inside of him.

When just the head had made its way into Harry's arse, Draco paused and pushed forwards and backwards slightly, teasing Harry and making him moan for more. Really, though, it already felt better than any ridiculously nicknamed dildo. Better, sexier, firmer, softer, more real, more _Draco_ , more—

“More,” demanded Harry, trying to reach up to pull Draco closer to him, inside him.

“More,” Draco repeated as he moved his hips forward, pushing more of his cock into Harry. 

Draco kept pressing forwards until Harry felt Draco's hips flush against his own skin. He was so full, so fucking full, and he never wanted to be empty again. But something was still missing. Harry realised he'd closed his eyes again and opened them to the sight of Draco kneeling between his legs, cock buried deep in Harry's arse and eyes pinned on Harry's face.

“Better?” asked Draco.

Instead of answering, Harry reached up and pulled Draco down into a firm kiss, letting him know just how much better this really was.

At some point during the kiss, after Draco's tongue had made it into Harry's mouth, but before Harry had nibbled on Draco's bottom lip, Draco began to move. His cock slid in and out of Harry as smoothly as any dildo ever had, but with added warmth and feeling and weight. Also with added Draco.

Every time Draco pushed back in, he made sure to go all the way until their hips met, and every time, Harry arched up to meet him. They began moaning into each other's mouths, their breathing heavy, but matching the pace of Draco's thrusts.

Eventually the meeting of their hips became a slapping of skin as Draco sped up. Harry's hands, which had been left to idle over Draco's skin, gripped more firmly at his waist, urging Draco forward, forward; deeper, faster.

As the lower halves of their bodies grew ever faster, needier, greedier, the upper halves of their bodies seemed to slow down. Their kisses became languid, savoured, meaningful. They looked into each other's eyes. They spoke to each other.

“Draco,” said Harry between breaths, “Draco, I love you.” He paused to throw his head back and moan as Draco's thrusts met his prostate. “Thank you, oh, fuck, you feel so good inside of me.”

“I love you too, Harry.” Draco sounded breathless, but at the speed his hips were now travelling, that seemed inevitable. “You're so tight, so warm, so fucking fuckable—fuck.”

Then Draco was gone from Harry's chest, instead sitting back up between Harry's legs and pulling as urgently on Harry's cock as his own was moving in and out of Harry's arse.

Harry just had time to cry out once more before the sensations overwhelmed him and an intense pleasure like he could not remember experiencing before washed over him. Draco's cock in his arse, the hand on his dick, the love in his heart—it all seemed to be thrown into focus and be pulled from his cock in a crushing orgasm.

While still recovering from what his body had just gone through, Harry opened his eyes in time to see Draco's mouth fall open and feel his thrusts falter as he came long and deep inside of Harry. It was perfect.

It was still perfect when Draco collapsed on Harry.

As they lay together catching their breath, Draco still inside of him, letting the sweat dry on their skin, Harry slowly regained the use of his brain. And the first thing his brain remembered was Draco's words before all the wonderfully distracting sex happened.

"You fell in love with me the moment I fell in lust with you?"

Draco sighed across Harry's nipple, but otherwise remained still. "Apparently."

"So then when did you decide you wanted to shag me?"

Draco brought a finger to his lips in fake contemplation. "A few minutes after you spilt that disgusting orange drink all over me."

"That was five years ago!"

"Indeed. You dashed around so quickly looking for something to clean it up with, and really, I couldn't help but notice your arse looking wonderfully shaggable in the Muggle trousers you were wearing."

"And why did you suddenly decide you loved me while I was staring at you naked?"

"I think I'd been in love with you for a while, but that was the moment I realised it. I realised it because of how you were looking at me."

"How was I looking at you?"

"Like you wanted me. Which apparently you did." Draco raised his head just enough to look at Harry and waggle his eyebrows. Harry steadfastly ignored him. "Since then I have enjoyed every second I've spent making your face turn purple trying not to react to my blatant double entendres."

"What?" Harry's head shot up so fast he almost dislodged them both from the sofa. "You made all those bloody innuendos on purpose!?"

"Of course." Draco smiled slyly. He slowly began to move his hips so his still half-hard cock slid teasingly in and out of Harry once more. "But I'd much rather make more in-your-endos."

Harry moaned at the sensation and couldn't have agreed more.


End file.
